


Severed Souls and Mirror Images

by AutisticWriter



Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Confusion, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Headaches & Migraines, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Moving On, One Shot, Post-Canon, Yuletide, Yuletide 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Oliver struggles with many issues upon returning to Motorville, including sudden, unexplained headaches, loneliness and grief without his mother around, and the burden of living alone. But, just as he discovered during his adventure in the Other World, he always has people by his side, and he is never truly alone.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Severed Souls and Mirror Images

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Heart_of_Targness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_of_Targness/gifts).



> I hope you like your Yuletide fic!

Like all kids in Motorville, Oliver used to complain about going to school. But after returning to his normal life after his long, amazing adventure in the Other World, Oliver finds himself looking forward to it. It will be nice to just be Oliver, rather than the boy who saved the world.

However, when he turns up at school, Oliver discovers he has more to worry about than all the hushed whispers that follow him (“Is that Oliver? Is he the one whose mum died?”). As when he sits at his desk and stares at the chalkboard, Oliver’s eyes widen and track the words written on the board, not knowing what on Earth they mean.

He knows the words are written in English letters, probably talking about their task for the first lesson of the day, but his brain scrambles the letters together, unable to comprehend them. Oliver blinks, wondering if his eyes work correctly, if he needs glasses, but everything else in the room is crystal clear.

And then he pictures reading runes and old magical texts in the Other World, screwing his eyes up. Has his brain gotten so used to reading in other languages that English seems foreign to him? Oliver thinks hard, his head pounding as he tries to relocate the English reading section of his memories; he had no idea this would even happen to him, but it makes sense. Is this what it is like to be bilingual, except with magical stuff involved?

When he opens his eyes, the words on the chalkboard make sense. Oliver lets out a sigh, rubbing his eyes. Who knew that going back to school would be such a headache? Literally.

\---

The entire concept of soulmates never even occurred to Oliver before all this began, but now he can’t remember what it was like to not see mirror images of people he knows in other worlds, the people connected and incredibly similar but also different. He has met so many people in his young life, and over half of them come from the Other World, some of them just happening to be soulmates of people from Motorville. And these pairs of people don’t look exactly the same, but sometimes… Oliver’s brain gets confused.

Such as one afternoon three weeks after he defeated Shadar and went back to Motorville, when Oliver walks home from school with Myrtle and Phil, only to make a ridiculous mistake.

“Oh, Oliver, you’re so silly,” Myrtle says as he and Phil recount how Oliver tripped over his own feet when the boys played softball in PE, Phil snorting and Oliver going red, his grazed knees still throbbing.

“Hey, Phil, cut it out!” Oliver says, pretending to be mad. “You’re gonna make Esther think—”

“Esther?” Phil says, and Oliver freezes.

His two friends stop walking, staring at Oliver with confusion etched upon their faces. Oliver’s stomach flips, flushing even redder.

“Oliver, did you forget my name?” Myrtle says, tilting her head.

He stares at them, heart racing, and shakes his head violently. “No, sorry, Myrtle. I just… got confused. You remind me of someone I know.”

Phil laughs, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. “Oh, Ollie, you can be so dumb sometimes.”

“Phillip, don’t call him dumb!” Myrtle says, scolding him like a mother would—

(And just for a moment, Oliver remembers Mom telling him off for sneaking cookies out of the jar, and memories of Mom and her smile and her warmth make a lump form in his throat and sharp pain stab at his chest.)

Oliver forces himself to laugh along, but Myrtle and Phil already give him The Look, an expression he has become far too aware of ever since he lost Mom. Is this why Myrtle told Phil off for mocking him? Does everyone in town still treat him like brittle glass, scared that Oliver might return to his reclusive, sobbing self like in the first few days after Mom died?

Not only did he get Myrtle and Esther mixed up, but his friends are still being cautious around him. Of course he isn’t over Mom’s death—he never will be—but he just wishes everyone in town could treat him like Oliver: Allie’s daughter, not Oliver: the boy whose mother died.

And it has been three weeks since he returned to normal life. When will he stop seeing his friends as mirror images of their soulmates? Or will he always be confused, living a double life in very literal way.

\---

“You look so much better, Oliver dear,” Miss Leila says when Oliver stops by to buy milk, smiling down at him.

“Better?” Oliver says, puzzled.

(And he hesitates when he holds out the money to pay her, picturing Mom’s jar of savings that she always kept hidden under the kitchen sink; the jar gets emptier by the day, and Oliver doesn’t want to think about what he will do when it runs out.)

“Yes, dear. You’ve got… a rosiness back to your face. You laugh more. You look so much happier. I’m so glad you’re coping with everything.” Miss Leila sighs, her smile faltering. “It’s almost like poor Allie never…” She trails off, smiling again. “Anyway! You look happy again, dear.”

Oliver stares at her. Now he actually thinks about it, he has been coping with Mom’s… passing rather well. Back when he first lost Mom, Oliver’s grief took over, and all he could do was shut himself in his bedroom and cry. But when he brought Mr Drippy back to life and got himself dragged into saving the Other World, Oliver was too distracted by magic and the White Witch and Shadar to even have time to grieve. And having a purpose to his life helped him keep going, pushing on despite the grief that always crushed his chest.

And now he is back trying to live a normal life, and he knows his time in the Other World really helped him. He still misses Mom, of course he does—whenever he thinks about Mom, his chest hurts so much and he has to blink back tears—but he can get on with his life now, rather than hiding in his room.

Oliver smiles, clutching his shopping bag to his chest. “Thanks, Miss Leila. I… I guess I am happier now.”

She chuckles, reaches across the counter and ruffles his hair. “I’m glad to hear it. And remember, dear, that I’m always here if you need to talk.”

He nods, his smile getting bigger.

In those first few days, why did he shut himself away? Why did he ever think he would be alone?

He has always had people by his side, wanting to help him through everything. And he always will.

\---

Oliver tries not to use magic much in Motorville, wanting to at least attempt to live as a normal person—not to mention how his rare uses of magic in front of others always end up freaking them out (he only ever flies his broomstick with a cloaking spell hiding him, remembering how badly Mrs Cartwright got scared when she saw him flying through the sky above the town)—but there are times when magic is just too necessary to do without it. Such as doing the washing up.

Like every day, Oliver uses magic to make the breakfast dishes wash themselves, and hurries upstairs to get ready for school. He always uses magic to do the chores; he’s just so bad at them, and using magic gives him more time to do his homework and sleep and go and play with his friends. Honestly, who could say they wouldn’t use magic to do mundane tasks for them?

As he runs up the stairs, sudden, sharp pain throbs behind his eyes, and Oliver gasps. He clings to the banister, terrified he might lose his balance and fall down the stairs, and screws his eyes up as the pain throbs and stabs deep inside his skull. Once the wave of pain has passed, Oliver staggers up the stairs and collapses onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. What was that all about?

He hopes the pain was just a one-off thing, but the next headache strikes him in math class. Pain rattles around his brain and Oliver lets out a gasp, dropping his pencil and clutching at the sides of his head. He hears his classmates and teacher worrying about him, but he can’t wipe the agonised grimace from his face or stop grabbing at his head, scared his skull might explode if he lets go.

When the headache fades, his terrified teacher escorts him to the medical room, and the school nurse looks him over. She gives him some liquid pain medicine and Oliver insists he is fine, that his head just feels a bit sore but the pain has gone, but she insists he go home from school.

“Just let me go to the office and phone your guardian, Oliver,” she says, and Oliver freezes.

Nobody in Motorville is concerned by it, but Oliver doesn’t have a guardian. Nobody seems to have noticed that he now lives alone, even though it should be totally obvious to his neighbours. But he is certain nobody at school knows the full details, and Oliver can just imagine the school calling Child Services and him ending up in care or something like that.

“O-Oh, nobody’s home in the middle of the day,” Oliver says. “But… Miss Leila can come get me.”

He rattles off Miss Leila’s phone number, and lets out a long-held breath. He got away with it.

But for how much longer?

\---

The headaches continue, attacking Oliver at least three times a day. He goes to see Motorville’s doctor, but the old man can’t find anything wrong with him. So, desperate to find out why his head keeps pounding so often, Oliver casts Gateway and heads to the Other World to find answers.

Marcassin seems the most obvious person to ask, given how he is a Great Sage (but a far more… active one than Esther’s father). So Oliver travels to Hamelin and gets escorted to the Palace by overenthusiastic guards (everyone here is very, very enthusiastic when Oliver appears, to the point he probably gets more attention than actual royalty), being taken to Marcassin without any trouble.

When he enters Marcassin’s chamber, Oliver finds Swaine here too, the two brothers bickering about something (they’re always bickering). But they both shut up when they see him, Swaine stepping to the side to let Oliver approach his brother.

“What brings you to Hamelin, Oliver?” Marcassin asks.

Oliver fiddles with the straps of his Bottomless Bag, half expecting another headache to interrupt him. “I’ve been getting really, really bad headaches, but there’s nothing medically wrong with me. And I thought a Great Sage might… know how to help.”

“Headaches?” Marcassin leans forwards, gesturing for Oliver to come closer. “Can you describe the pain?”

“It’s… really sharp and stabby,” Oliver says, going red at his own awful description. “It’s so bad I can’t do anything but stand there and wait for it to stop. Could there be a… magical reason for it?”

“I don’t see why not,” Swaine says, Marcassin still thinking hard. “I mean, I’m no sage, but I was just thinking about how awful it felt with my heart broken. Magic can make you feel flipping awful.”

Marcassin chuckles slightly. “I would have put it more eloquently, but my brother is right,” he says, and Swaine gives him a look. “Magic is a powerful force, one very difficult to control. There are many spells that can seriously injure people, and even more that can cause uncomfortable symptoms if cast incorrectly. But I think we can rule the latter out in your case.”

“Why?” Oliver asks.

“You’re a very powerful wizard, Oliver,” Marcassin says, smiling. “You wouldn’t be able to mess up enough to put yourself through chronic pain.”

“But if it’s not that, does that mean someone’s trying to use magic to hurt him?” Swaine asks, frowning.

“I… suppose that could be the case,” Marcassin murmurs, and Oliver flinches. “But… I can’t think of any spells that would cause recurrent headaches. The cause of this is definitely magical, but more complicated than magic one can cast.”

Swaine exhales slowly. “Flipping heck, you lost me ages ago, brother.”

Oliver swallows, staring up at Marcassin. “What else could be wrong with me?” he says, and his voice quivers.

Marcassin and Swaine share a glance, pain written across their faces. Great, now people in this world are worrying about him too.

“I… I’m not sure…” Marcassin hums softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. And then, out of nowhere, Marcassin lets out a loud gasp and jumps to his feet, crying, “Oh, I have an idea!”

Swaine flinches so violently he almost falls over, fear jolting through him. “Marcassin, you nearly made me jump out of my skin.”

“Apologies, brother,” Marcassin says. He steps forwards and sinks to one knee, making him and Oliver almost the same height. His expression turns sombre, and Oliver doesn’t like where this is going. “Oliver, did you ever get these headaches before Shadar was defeated?”

Oliver’s legs wobble and he takes a step backwards. “Um… no, I didn’t.”

“Just as I thought. Oliver, just before Shadar was defeated, he severed the connection between you two. We have yet to do any research into this phenomenon, but it is highly likely that severing the bond between soulmates could cause adverse effects.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” Oliver asks.

“Soulmates are deeply connected, hence how Shadar could manipulate people in one world by breaking the hearts of their soulmates in another. In fact, it was previously believed that severing a soulmate connection would prove fatal. But you are living proof that isn’t the case… However, I think breaking the connection leaves a person dealing with chronic health problems. Such as your headaches.”

Oliver blinks, slowly taking in those words. As Swaine says something to his brother (“That was like a flipping science lesson, Marcassin.”), Oliver reaches up and brushes his hand against his forehead, a place that blared with agony only a few hours ago. Could these headaches be from Shadar ripping their souls apart? He can’t claim to understand it, but Marcassin’s theory makes a lot of sense.

And then something hits him, and he lets out a little gasp.

“Oliver?” Marcassin says, startled.

“Are you okay?” Swaine asks.

“…Mom,” Oliver whispers. “Mom… Mom didn’t have a soulmate because of all the stuff she did with me and Shadar, and… and Mom had a weak heart.” He swallows, a lump aching his throat, and Oliver stares down at his feet. “Is this soulmate stuff the reason my mom died?”

He hears the hitch in Marcassin’s breath, followed by a weak, “Oliver…”

“And if that’s all true,” he continues, voice wobbling. “Then the effects last forever, just like Mom’s heart problems. And there’s no way to make the headaches go away.” He sighs, and rubs his eyes before they can fill with tears.

And his friends just stare at him, powerless to help him.

\---

It takes three months before Child Services catch on to the incredibly obvious fact Oliver lives alone. When one of the officers stands on his porch one morning, Oliver stumbles backwards, staring up at the woman and knowing he has been cornered.

She takes him to their offices, and as Oliver sits on a chair with his feet dangling, he learns it was school who told on him. Oliver hadn’t submitted his form for parents’ evening (for the obvious reason), and his teacher went and visited his house, and found Oliver home alone, the house showing no signs of anyone other than him living in it. And… and she called Child Services, leading to this mess.

And he learns that they want to put him into care. Oliver flinches, picturing being taken away from his home and his friends and his classmates, living with strangers who don’t know anything about him, and being passed from family to family like luggage. A shiver runs through his frame, and he wraps his arms around himself.

Thankfully, Motorville’s small population means news spreads fast. Only minutes after Oliver got picked up by Child Services, everyone in town was talking about happened—and one of his favourite people in all the worlds came to his rescue.

At least, that’s what he discovers when Myrtle and Mr and Mrs Cartwright arrive at the office, Myrtle running right over to Oliver and grabbing his hand and whispering, “I told Mum and Dad what I saw and they want to help, Oliver.”

Oliver smiles weakly, squeezing her hand.

“May I ask what you are doing here?” the officer asks, rather confused.

“Oh, we just heard Oliver here doesn’t have a legal guardian,” says Mrs Cartwright, as timid as always.

“And rather than putting him into the care system, we were wondering if we could take him in instead,” says Mr Cartwright, and Oliver gasps.

“H-Huh?” he whispers.

Myrtle giggles, leaning closer. “Isn’t it amazing? My parents are awesome.”

The officer tilts her head, staring at Myrtle’s parents. “Are you being serious?”

“Dead serious,” Mr Cartwright says. “It’d save you paperwork, right? And it’s better for the kid to live with people he trusts.”

“You have a point,” the officer says. “Okay, if you’re really serious about this, we can begin the paperwork soon. How does that sound, Oliver?”

Oliver stares at her, at Myrtle’s parents, and his friend. And a smile spreads across his face. “That sounds… wonderful.”

\---

Oliver ends up spending a couple of weeks in a care home whilst all the paperwork and formalities are taken care of, but, finally, the day comes for him to move in with his foster family: the Cartwrights.

He shakes as he walks up the garden path of his new home, staring up at the familiar building and hugging a bag of his belongings to his chest. Mr Cartwright walks behind him, carrying a load of Oliver’s luggage, and Myrtle stands on the porch, waving at him.

Oliver smiles at her, happiness fluttering in his chest. This is all so new, but he can’t help but feel excited. For the first time in what feels like forever, he can honestly say he has a family in both worlds. Things are still confusing and painful and difficult, but with the support of everyone in the Other World and his new family in Motorville, Oliver can really start rebuilding his life.


End file.
